Everything
by stephi-247
Summary: Peeta Mellark gave Katniss Everdeen everything. She realises this the night before the Quarter Quell and decides to spend the rest of her life doing the same. She didn't expect the rest of her life to give her so many moments to do so.
1. The Quarter Quell

_A/N: Eeeek, new fandom, why do I do this to myself. After years of deliberate avoidance I found myself dragged to see hunger games, then of course had to read the books and am utterly obsessed (and relatively content). There was just one thing that kept nagging at me and I see it has been done here many times but I still couldn't help myself. So here we have Katniss and Peeta's last night in the Capitol before the Quarter Quell ruins everyone's lives. Please excuse the writing, first person present is outside my comfort zone  
_

* * *

I turn once to reassure myself Peeta is safely in my room before I close the door, turning the lock. At least tonight, no one will take him from me.

I lean back against the door and stare at the boy in front of me, the boy with the bread. He stands awkwardly, hovering by my bed, normally being the one who joins me under the covers.

I've accepted that I will die so he, who has given me so much, can live. There is no point having doubts any more. Accepting this fact has allowed me to rid myself of any discomfort I felt around him, whether it be as a result of his feelings or mine. So I carelessly unbutton my shirt, letting it drop and undoing my pants as I walk over to the dresser. They fall to my feet and I carefully step out of them as I open a drawer, pulling on the first night dress I find before turning back to Peeta. I notice he hasn't moved and his eyes are fixed on me, the slightest blush tinting his cheeks.

I only smile, walking towards him and stopping just before I press against him, leaning my forehead on his shoulder for a brief moment, surprised as always at the comfort I find in contact with him.

"Forget the shower, let's go to bed." He doesn't object, simply nods and as I slip beneath the thin sheet, tossing back the heavy covers he turns away from me, pulling his shirt over his head and I can see the evidence of the months of training we went through leading up to this, as the muscles ripple along his broad shoulders. He drops his pants and I see him hesitate, standing in only his boxers, eyes glancing towards the door. "Forget pyjamas, it's a warm night, just come to bed."

"Sure Katniss." He replies, walking over and easing into bed beside me. I feel my body relax at the familiarity of the mattress moving under his weight and shuffle over to close the distance he left between us. As I nestle against his side his arm automatically comes around me and I sigh in contentment I shouldn't be feeling knowing tomorrow I might die.

"I would trade almost anything if it meant for the rest of eternity neither of us had to leave this bed." I whisper, drawing patterns on his bare chest, trying to remember where the scars were before the Capitol remade us both.

"I know, I would too"

"It's not fair." And for the first time my voice wavers and Peeta's arm tightens around me. I prop myself up to face him and notice the sadness in his eyes. "They can't just leave us alone... They want to take everything." Peeta's fingers tangle through my hair and he pulls me back to him and whispers soothing things. I rest my hand over his heart, the familiar beat reminding me that my boy with the bread is worth dying for. Because Peeta has given me his everything.

Everything.

He has done everything for me. Excepting these few days I've given him little but pain. In whatever way it is, in a way I don't understand, I know now that I love Peeta. Who saved me. Who loves me unfalteringly and unquestioningly. Who sees the good in everything that I never can. The realisation brings a crushing sensation to my chest but along with it a determination that at least for a few hours I can show him what he means to me, like he has done for me for so long.

"I'm not letting them take everything. There are things we can have and they can never take." I tell him, pleased that the weakness has left my tone.

His expression turns confused and I lean down and kiss him and as his grip tightens on me I know that this is right, this is what I want and need. He pulls back and mutters my name, protest obvious and I kiss him again, harder, and when he gasps my lips part and I can taste him and for a moment I can think of nothing but how I want him.

He pushes me away and I inhale sharply because the loss of contact hurts in a way I can't explain and though I try to lean closer, he holds me back.

"What are you doing?" He asks in a low, even voice, which makes my stomach twist in a way that just makes the distance from him hurt more.

"This is our last time alone. From tomorrow, every moment of potentially the rest of our lives will belong to the Capitol. Tonight belongs to us. I want to make the most of it. I..." I falter, trying to put what I feel into words, which have never been my strong point. "I want to experience every little thing I can before then and… We've been through so much together, this is something else I want to belong to us."

This time when I kiss him he returns the pressure, shifting so we both lay on our sides, pulling me flush against him. I moan at the contact of his warm body and his tongue slips between my lips and my body tingles so that I can't help but grip his hair tightly. His lips break from mine and he presses kisses down my jaw, to my neck where he sucks gently and I moan again, pressing myself closer. I feel him harden against me and my desire heightens, bringing my hand to press against his behind as I move against him. He gasps, pushing me onto my back before taking the hem of my night dress and yanking it up. I wiggle to help him and he throws it with disregard, leaning over to kiss me and resting his hand on my breast. I can feel the warmth through the thin fabric of my bra and my back arches off the bed as he alternates pressure between his fingers and thumb. I reach around my back swiftly undoing my bra and tugging it for Peeta to get the message. As he pushes the garment aside and his fingers ghost over my bare skin I gasp and squirm, my legs pressing harder together as I feel the tingling between them. I've felt it a few times and each time I have gone straight out to hunt until it passes, like an itch you know not to scratch. But today I want to.

I barely resist, settling for rubbing my legs together as Peeta's experienced fingers touch me with the skill only a baker could manage. He seems to have noticed what I want because he breaks our kiss and gently licks my breast, the unexpected pleasure drawing an unsuppressed cry from me as his hands slowly moves down my stomach to run gently across the band of my underwear. For the first time, I feel nervous.

"I've never done anything like this before." I blurt out and Peeta stops to look up at me. His lips are wet and I miss his touch instantly and wish I never said anything, yet I keep talking. "Not with a boy or even... Even m-my-myself. I don't know anything, I don't want to disappoint you." I whisper, looking to the side so I don't have to see his expression.

When he turns me back to face him he smiles with so much love I feel stupid when he gently kisses me.

"They give the boys a talk at school on... How this all works. When I got back and everything my oldest brother told me everything he knows in case... Well, this happened. You could never disappoint me." His fingers run down the front of my underwear and I feel the fabric stick to me and my heart skips a beat as I hope it's normal. He must see the panic on my face because he smiles and with his free hand brushes my hair behind my ear. "Do you know how sexy that is? That you are so wet for me? Can I take these off? I want to feel you." All I can do is nod and he hooks his fingers in my underwear and drags them down, leaving me lying naked before him. He kneels at my feet, eyes taking me in and I can feel myself blushing and resist the urge to cover myself.

He lies down on top of me, kissing me slowly, bringing his hands to my waist. He pulls back so his lips are barely touching mine and smiles.

"You are so beautiful." He whispers and I can't help but believe him. He shifts to his side next to me, his hand running down my body to rest on my lower stomach. My legs instantly spread slightly and he notices and smiles wider. "Katniss, may I touch you?"

"Oh, Peeta, please." I all but beg and as he runs his finger slowly along me I whimper and wonder how I have lived my life without this feeling. His finger slips slightly inside me and my hips jerk and I whine as he brings it back out, continuing his gentle caresses. I reach across, my hand resting on the front of his boxers, finding the hardness from before and his free hand grips my wrist, moving my hand to rest on my breast.

"I don't need any help there, Katniss. Touch yourself for me."

I notice the command, so different from the boy asking my permission only moments ago and I feel compelled to obey. Curiously I run my fingers across my skin, watching Peeta who is fixated on the action. His interest brings about a confidence in me and I work to imitate his earlier movements, I let out a pleased sigh as I run my nipple between my fingers and moan as Peeta's fingers move up quickly between my folds. He stops and seems worried he has hurt me and I shake my head, desperate for him to continue.

"Do that, again, there, please." His fingers make small circles over the spot and I moan deeper, because whatever I thought was pleasure before was child's play compared to this. "Peeta, I want to now, I want _you_ now."

I reach over and tug down the side of his boxers and he bites his lip as he takes my hand.

"Katniss, you said you don't know anything about this, but be serious, you must know a little, so tell me how much?"

"Well..." I'm confused by his question but try to answer knowing he must have a reason for asking. "That, your, well, goes... You know, inside me, and uh, that's how people have children, but that they don't always do it wanting kids and..." I trail off, feeling ridiculous and wishing I'd been able to ask my mother these things.

"Katniss..." He rests his forehead against mine, entwining our fingers. "It can hurt for you, the first time, are you sure you want to do this?"

"I don't care, I want you, please, Peeta, just take me now, I need you." I can see his resolve to try and talk me out of it weakening at my tone, but he still hesitates, looking for arguments which are going to have no effect on me.

"I want this to be good for you, I don't want to finish before you." He mumbles and my eyebrows lower as I consider what he means.

"What do you mean? How can we finish at different times? We do it all together?"

He smiles and I know I've said something stupid when he kisses me.

"I promise if I do I'll show you after what I mean."

He slowly pulls his boxers down and I'm alarmed for a moment at the sight of him. In the last few months I've seen many naked men that my mother has treated and none of them looked like this. Peeta's manhood extends outward from his body, much bigger than any of the ones that hung limp between any of the other men's legs.

"I'll go slowly, I promise it fits, just tell me if it hurts." He reassures me, seemingly correctly interpreting my expression.

I only nod, mute, as Peeta gently spreads my legs further, moving between them before he slowly lowers himself to me. I can feel his hardness against my stomach and he shifts lower until it brushes against my wetness making me shudder with anticipation. He kisses me and my draws my attention to his lips and tongue as he moves his hips around until the tip of him slips inside me. I gasp and he stills and I know he is waiting for me to tell him to continue. I nod and he pushes in a little further and I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaling deeply and trying to relax. I nod again and he pushes further and further until I'm sure I am going to split in half and he stops, panting.

"Oh god, you feel so good." He mutters, but he stays still, his lips moving to my neck where he gently sucks as his hand moves between us to cup and massage my breast. After a few moments I start to forget the discomfort as his hand moves faster and his teeth graze my skin and my hips involuntarily buck up and I moan as his rub against that spot he'd touched earlier and Peeta doesn't need me to tell him, only draws back and pushes in, drawing a cry from me as I clutch at his back.

He creates a slow rhythm, rocking against me, kissing my neck, lips, jaw, any part of me he can reach and it feels so good that I lift my hips to meet his, forcing him deeper and faster and my fingers twist in his hair as the pleasure increases.

"Oh, Katniss." He moans, hands moving to my hips to still them. "You're too good, I don't want this over so fast."

He moves his hands to my shoulders and shifts his body downwards before sliding back up along me. His hips never break contact with mine and as he moves in and out of me his pelvis goes back and forth along that place and as his speed increases I can feel my legs shake and I gasp for breath, holding tight to his shoulders.

"Peeta, it's too much, I can't, I, oh, Peeta." I moan, squirming underneath him as the sensation threatens to overwhelm me.

"That's it, Katniss." He groans, running his hand gently down my face. "It's okay, let go and just feel."

He quickens his hips and my legs press against him and I'm worried for a moment I'll wet myself and then I cry out desperately as the pleasure peaks and holds me. It's so good it's almost unbearable and I'm calling Peeta's name, begging him, not sure if it's to stop or keep going when I feel him tense above me and groan, hips jerking irregularly for a moment before he slows his thrusts, calming the fire inside me until he stops completely and lays atop me the pair of us gasping for breath.

I loosen my grip on his shoulders to start a comforting rub across his back, feeling utterly content. He raises his head to look at me and I press a chaste kiss to his lips, before smiling at him.

"I think I know what you mean by finish." I tell him with a cheeky grin I didn't know I was capable of. He smiles back for a moment before his expression turns serious.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss, I was going to pull out before I… I think if you go shower and wash up it helps, you just sounded so beautiful and it just overwhelmed me that I could make you feel that and I couldn't help myself. .."

I realise finally what he means and laugh out loud, effectively silencing him.

"Peeta, we're going back to the arena, it won't need to matter. Besides, I'm already pregnant." I tell him with a wink and he laughs with me, brushing my hair off my face. We stay like this for a while, before he shifts out of me, lying beside me without moving me from his arms, neither of us making any attempt to redress. I gently stroke his arm and bask in the comfort Peeta brings me. Despite the effort to give back to him, I can't help feeling I owe him more. For showing me love like this on our last night, for helping me to understand what I think I already knew.

"I love you, Katniss." He tells me in his half asleep haze. I kiss his chest and remind myself that in the arena tomorrow, I will give everything I can back.

"I love you too, Peeta." I whisper, settling into his arms.

Tomorrow, I will give my boy with the bread the rest of his life, because tonight, he completed mine.


	2. The Hospital Room

**A/N:** _Well, I forgot to make that complete and people asked for more and even though I didn't have a story line or anything, I figured a collection of linear one shots was doable. Try and substitute the moments where Katniss was inadequate. AKA My take on every moment Katniss disappointed me or I was disappointed wasn't in the books. She really doesn't deserve Peeta, but I love him dearly so I must give him what he wants._

_Anyway, I haven't determined a total yet but enjoy! _

* * *

For someone who I initially had such vehement dislike for, Finnick has become such a comforting presence in 13.

It's not that Gale isn't trying, I know he is. He just can't _understand_. I suppose he never will, not the way Peeta or Finnick does. Though I haven't let him try, I know that Gale's touch wouldn't draw me from my nightmares like Peeta's did.

However, when I see him look at me with the heaviness that Peeta did our last night in the Capitol though, I'm tempted. But when he does, I think of only Peeta, because just like I said it should, that is something that we shared, that belongs to us and when I think of him, weak and tortured by faceless men, all because of me, the idea of Gale touching me that way becomes repulsive and I run from him.

Now I find myself, sitting with only Finnick, as he manically ties knots, taking only slight comfort in his reassurance that today we will know one way or another. That today, Peeta will be either returned to me, or I can only hope dead and safe from the Capitol once and for all. After all, I was prepared to kill him myself when I thought we were both captured, I only hope if there is no chance of rescuing him that someone has the sense to do just that. In no lifetime would he deserve an ounce of the suffering he's already experienced.

In the hours that pass I feel as though I'm not myself, more watching myself as I wait, watching the pair of us really. Myself, on my bed with knees pulled to my chest, not moving, not speaking, and Finnick, muttering to himself as his fingers work magic on his length of rope. I wonder which of us appears more crazy.

Even when Haymitch is there, telling me he's safe, that we can see him, it's as though I am a spectator, watching everything happen to people I don't know. As we rush through the hall towards the room they have him in, I can't think, can't feel, can't accept Haymitch's words.

It all comes crashing back to me when I see him on a bed, confused as doctors take readings and fuss over him. I press against the glass that separates us, drinking in the sight of him and I can't bring myself to blink even to rid myself of the tears welled in my eyes for fear he might vanish if he leaves my sight.

Haymitch's tight grip on my shoulder isn't enough to draw me from my attempts to melt through the wall to my boy with the bread, but the sound of him opening a door I hadn't noticed which lead to him was.

I stumble through it, choking on the relief, the heart crushing disbelief that he is here, safe.

He turns to face me and as our eyes lock the intensity of it causes me to make a sound of pained joy I didn't know I was capable of and I shove the doctor at his side with as much strength as I can muster to embrace him, because seeing is _not_ believing and until I can feel him, hold him and never let go I can't be satisfied.

It takes me longer than it should to realise that it's not the emotion which has stopped my breathing, but Peeta.

As medics yell, pulling at limbs to separate us, I catch sight of his face and with a clarity I didn't have moments ago I realise that intensity is foreign to me. It's not the undying adoration I have grown so accustomed to. Peeta stares at me with unbridled hatred.

Even when I feel the pressure of his fingers leave my throat, I can't inhale. I feel myself being pulled from the room as they work to restrain Peeta as he screams his hatred of me. It isn't until in my peripheral vision I notice the door that I start screaming, and it isn't until the doctors fall silent and loosen their hold on me I realise I was telling them to stop.

Peeta is thrashing on the bed they have secured him to and I pull my arms from the slackened grip of the doctors and move back towards his bed. I vaguely register their objections, but they mean nothing to me. My hand rests on Peeta's clenched fist, restrained at the wrist and he turns to snarl at me, gnashing his teeth in a manner so reminiscent of the mutts in our first games that I draw back from him as though burned.

But of course this is Peeta, in some way, some part of him is somewhere. I just need to find him.

"Leave." My tone is low, yet I know I've been heard because a man who I assume must be in charge begins to usher his attendants to the door and the room is empty but for the two of us.

I wasn't optimistic enough to think that Peeta's sudden silence meant he was calmed. The unwavering bloodthirst on his face was enough to tell me that he'd just managed to focus his energy on me. I return my hand to his and he begins snarling again. I grip hard, and the pressure brings me back to our second hunger games, gripping Peeta's hand as our chariot rode around, my eyes focused straight ahead as I fought to keep them from straying toward him in his burning suit. He was breathtaking.

I guess was hooked on him even then.

Seemingly the pressure brings him back to some semblance of normalcy because the snarling dies down.

"Get off me." He growls and I realise his movements aim to pull his hand away from me.

I don't move, can't respond as I am torn between the need to be gentle and love him and the desire to slap him and shake him until he snaps out of whatever kind of horror he is trapped in.

"No." is all I end up saying, trying desperately to keep my tone as calm as possible. He snarls again and my attempt at composure snaps and all thoughts of being gentle with him vanish and I climb onto the bed atop him and as I straddle his hips it takes everything I have not to be thrown off and I grip his shoulders, determined that he will recognise me for me, the girl he loves.

He has to.

"Peeta, look at me." I tell him, and he bucks his hips to get me off him and the pressure is reminiscent enough of our night together that I beg him again, with renewed desperation. My fingers are digging into him hard enough it will probably start to draw blood and as he begins to tell me he is going to kill me I lose my last strand of sanity and my voice is a despairing scream when I plead "Look at me, Peeta!"

I get my wish when his crazed eyes meet mine and I resist the urge to run away, leaning down and pressing my lips to his. He throws his head forward and when it collides with mine I see stars and it is enough to unbalance me and land me in a heap on the floor.

"Don't touch me! You're a mutt! I hate you, you killed my family-"

Arms grab at me again, dragging me away from him and when I scream for them to stop this time they don't listen. I struggle, kicking whoever is close and when I feel the grip on one arm slacken I throw myself towards Peeta, knowing if I stay I can make him see me, know me, love me.

He reaches for me, with intentions so far from mine and I don't care, only know that he needs me and I am all that can save him when the doctor is in front of me, hands gripping both my shoulders as he obscures my vision of Peeta.

"Katniss, we need you to leave, he appears to have been brainwashed somehow and you're triggering him so you need to leave for your own safety-"

"I don't care!" I scream at him, shaking myself to get him off me. "Let him try! I promised when we went back to that arena that for the rest of my life I would give him _everything_. I am just as prepared now as I was then for my life to be the cost! I need to save him, I need to fix him and if he kills me trying so be it! I deserve it, he _should_ kill me for leaving him in the arena, I don't care if I can't do anything, I am going to die trying!"

He looks at me sadly and I know I must sound insane but it must be worse than even I could realise because I feel the familiar prick of a needle in my neck and I can only call for Peeta once, begging him to hear me and knowing I've failed him before I black out.


	3. The Cafeteria

**The Cafeteria**

My outburst effectively banned me from access to Peeta. The doctors were kind enough to say that it was for my safety and that Peeta would recover best with only medical attention and no personal visits. Haymitch, in his habit of brutal honesty told me Peeta spent his time between morphling shots when they doctors tried to work on him screaming his hatred of me until his throat went hoarse and they needed to sedate him.

Seeing Finnick by day, wrapped in Annie, who is so damaged but knows Finnick alone and that she loves him filled me with pain I couldn't describe. I had convinced myself that if we could only get him back here, that revolution be damned, I had him back and I would lock myself in a room with him and never leave so no one could tear us apart again.

I suppose the Capitol decided they hadn't destroyed me enough just yet.

I return to the state of disengagement I wandered around 13 in when I first arrived, seemingly more lost now than I was then. Prim reassures me that things are getting better as the venom leaves his system, tells me that he is less delusional.

When I ask if he still hates me she doesn't have the heart to speak.

In the weeks that follow I move between aimless existence, lectures from Coin and Plutarch about needing to be the Mockingjay, systematically avoiding Gale or Finnick or almost anyone and mourning my boy with the bread. I learnt to only listen to Haymitch, who agrees with Prim that he is more coherent, but last he told me, the mere mention of me could wildly set him off. He tells me they are bringing in some people from 12, having them speak to him, thinking the more calm exchanges he has will maybe make enough of a different that they can reintroduce me.

I'm certainly not holding my breath.

Johanna is one of the few I accept directions from. She siphons off my morphling supply, drags me to meals and can be counted on to pull me through my days in the least pain possible.

I find myself sitting at dinner, between her and Gale who has pressed himself against my side, in a display of attempted possession which sets my teeth on edge, but I refrain from commenting.

As I eat in a mindless daze, between repeated brushes of Gale's hand and the laughter of the table at Finnick's enthusiastic speech, I see him.

He certainly is more coherent, because he is managing to walk through the full cafeteria, flanked by a pair of guards with his hands shackled so close the tray of food he is carrying appears particularly precarious.

I resist the urge to leap towards him, knowing Peeta needs calm consistency from me, needs me to be strong enough to do that for him. His eyes meet mine and his stare holds me, catches my breath in my throat and the moment is suspended in time between us, as life goes on at my table, people oblivious to us. For that short space of time, it's almost as though we are back in our own little world, nothing is changed.

It's Delly, calling out an enthusiastic greeting which snaps his gaze from me and I feel like I notice his hands tighten on his tray before he is walking towards me, having accepted Delly's invitation to our table. He places his tray between Finnick and Delly, pushing Finnick to the side so that his seat is almost across from me. Both of us are yet to speak and as he sits I feel drawn towards him and it takes every fibre of my being not to touch him, kiss him, show him how he loved me.

His voice snaps me back to reality like cold water.

"So, finally abandoned the little charade with me and followed your heart then?" he says in a tone that doesn't belong to Peeta as he gestures between Gale and I with his fork. The suggestion causes me to shift into Johanna as I make to distance myself from Gale, which brings a frown to his face which I can't bring myself to care about. "Or not? Am I causing trouble in paradise?"

I vaguely register Johanna cursing at him and Peeta double-takes as though seeing her for the first time. Or perhaps it is hearing her, not seeing her, which has the real impact.

I watch as the cruelness leaves his eyes for a moment, replaced by a haunted expression which hurts me so much that I forget myself and reach across the table to grip his hand.

I draw it back when he stabs his fork into the table where my hand had been only moments before. The sound causes a lul in the noise around the hall, before people pick up, deliberately avoiding glancing at our table.

He lets go of the fork so it clatters on the table, and flexes his wrists, wincing as the metal cuts into what I can see are already open wounds. My heart aches and I mimic the movement, if only to occupy my hands to help keep them from him.

"So, not with lover boy…" I watch as confusion dawns on his features, as if remembering a time when he was the one called my lover boy, but the moment of comprehension fades as quickly as it appears. "Interesting. See, the more I remember of you Katniss, the more confused I get. I can remember your indifference in private and the adoration in public, but not everything quite matches up…"

The way his voice trails off makes my breath hitch and I know he remembers our night together, the tone in his voice suggests he doesn't believe it was real for me.

"It was real." I murmur and he raises an eyebrow, as if to have me clarify. "Everything. It took too long for everything to match up for me."

He flexes his wrists faster, his head twitching uneasily and when he screams, everyone but me pulls away and he grips tightly at his hair and when he opens his eyes, they have none of the calm of only moments ago, now resembling the crazed terror of the night he returned.

The smaller of his two body guards sighs theatrically before pricking his neck to administer his morphling and the larger catches his body as it slumps. The entire hall stares at us unrestrained as the two hoist Peeta up and carry him from the cafeteria between them. A few choice words from Johanna turns nearly every head back to their plate. As she drags me out, my dinner long forgotten, in a rare moment of sensitivity she tells me not to blame him, that she knows first-hand that the Capitol has done this to him, but from what she saw of Peeta, in the games and listening to him in the Capitol, she knows he will do everything to come back to me.

For the first time since I entered the Quarter Quell, I feel a surge of purpose, motivation. She's right, the Capitol did do this to him.

Now the Mockingjay will make them pay.


	4. 451

**451**

**Disclaimer:** _This chapter uses direct lines of text from Suzanne Collin's Mockingjay. This material is used for enjoyment only, I am making no profit from this and no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

The few times I see Peeta after that, I can tell that I was wrong in my initial assessment and I am not all that can save him. Rather, when I see him ask me a calm, harmless question and I offer a calm, harmless response, with my words sending him into panicked frenzies, helpless confusion or blinding rage, I come to accept the doctor's insistence I keep my distance and remind myself when I ache to see him that I am the problem, not the solution.

So watching him arrive to us in 451, between my training and trip to 2 and consequent hospital stay, I realise it's been several weeks since I've seen him. The man that walks towards us in his battle attire with his gun held casually, assuring us that the President personally assigned him is not the one I left in the hospital. Haymitch stopped telling me about his condition when I stopped asking and I briefly wonder why he would keep such an improvement from me.

Which of course leads me to realise that this state of consciousness is not consistent, Peeta still wants him to kill me and if Coin was the one who sent him here, she wants me dead.

The idea whilst unpleasant is not altogether shocking to me, but if Peeta is coming back to himself enough that he can function basically normally on some occasions, I won't give her the satisfaction of making him her pawn and forcing him to live with that pain when he realises it.

Boggs is on side and takes his weapon from him, a fact which doesn't seem to particularly bother him and sets up a guard on him. When Jackson informs me I'm not part of the rotation, she hesitantly includes me with herself at my request.

He struggles with his difficulty to categorise me and when he falls silent, I don't push him, allow him to tie knots with Finnick's rope and I'm reminded of myself, struggling over the more difficult knots which Finnick could breeze through as I try to get thoughts of Peeta with blood running down his face out of my head.

I'm not sure if he is mulling over Finnick's suggestion that he ask people to clarify his memories for him, but just as I am prepared to go to bed since my watch draws to a close, he remembers my favourite colour is green.

I smile and he knows he is right before I verbalise it for him.

"Yours is orange." I tell him. I can tell in his face he doubts this and I press on. "Not like Effie's hair… more like a sunset."

The way his eyes widen in surprise I know the words are familiar to him and he smiles slightly in return, the first he's given me since I got him back and encouraged, I can't stop myself from continuing.

"You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces."

I clasp my hands over my mouth, worried the frantic tone in my voice will be enough to set him off, but he closes his eyes and hums slightly as he thinks, a sound which is comforting in some way.

"I started painting after the first games?" I nod in response and he seems pleased and continues. "Your favourite are… cheese buns." I laugh, biting my lip against the tears that threaten me. "I leave the windows open because an occasional breeze in the night makes you cuddle closer to me. It's disgusting watching you drink tea after you stir two lumps of sugar in it but I love it because it is so rare for you to allow yourself any type of indulgence. I always double-knot my shoelaces though? God, I'm a nanna." I laugh again and don't bother with the tears that fall on my cheeks, as Peeta, _my _Peeta, not the one the Capitol created, answers me. "Tell me more, please."

"You told the Capitol I was pregnant to try and cancel the games. You're the only thing that can calm me from the nightmares which leave me screaming. When we were just eleven you saved my life by burning bread in the bakery to throw to me. You wanted to die as yourself in the games, show the Capitol they didn't own you. You fell in love with me when I sang the valley song, with my hair in two braids instead of one."

I wait as he absorbs the new information, hoping I haven't overloaded him when he chuckles.

"All I could think after I said that was that my mother was no doubt on her way to the Capitol and games be damned was going to beat me over the head with a baking tray, I don't think she liked you much after the games, too strong and took too much of my attention." His expression quickly turns to one of darkness, not humour. "Nothing scared me more than the first time I tried to wake you from your nightmares. Even when you wanted my comfort and I could hold you like I did in the cave, all I could feel was pain that you were suffering like this… what else did you say?"

"You threw me the burned bread, wanted to die in the arena as yourself, fell in love with me when I sang on our first day at school." I remind him slowly.

"I'd been watching you for years… I watched you go home every day." I nod the affirmative and he seems to gain confidence from this. "I remember her screaming at you and I could see you out the window… I dropped the bread in the fire, just long enough for the crust to blacken. She hit me but I didn't care, all I could think about was how I was going to get it to you without her noticing and when the bell chimed I was so grateful I almost tripped on my way out. When I saw you the next day it was like there was new life in you and I would have taken ten bruises twice the size of the one I had and still not regret what I did."

"There was new life in me. That was the day that I went hunting without my father for the first time." I smile reassuringly at him and the smile he returns me is dazzling.

"I can believe I wanted to die myself… sometimes even now… when it's too much, I just want to give in, but... I can _remember_ them poisoning me and I know that I have to fight it because I don't want to believe they changed me, I can't just give up and let them win." The determination in his face is so reminiscent to watching his struggle through our games that I shift closer to him, so thankful to Finnick and his amazing ideas. "Your voice… I can remember that perfectly. If your father was even a tenth as beautiful when he sang I can understand why your mother would run off with a coal miner."

"He was more beautiful." I say, hating the blush that I can feel heating my cheeks.

"Well that's just not possible." He murmurs and he moves closer and for the first time, I feel like I can see the love he used to look at me with.

My attention moves from him though as I hear a rustle in the tent and Gale comes out to take over watch and after looking back and forth between Peeta and I, turns around and zips himself back in. When I look back Peeta has moved away from me and his eyes are more guarded.

"You loved him. You broke my heart on the train home after the Games. When you kissed me on the beach you meant it."

I can tell by the absence of heavy breathing that none of the people lying around us are asleep, but I keep my attention on Peeta alone.

"No. Yes. Yes." I want to elaborate, but I feel like we are past explanations at this stage.

He seems to consider my answer and nods and I wonder if he has filled in some of the blanks for himself, but his previous expression doesn't return.

"Can I have time to think? You need your rest anyway…"

"Of course, Peeta." I slowly start to stand and stop when he moves towards me, asking me to wait.

He comes close to me, hovering just a few inches away and behind Peeta I see Jackson's hands slightly reposition her gun, so that she could jump up at a moment's notice. My focus shifts back to Peeta, who slowly moves closer, running his hand down my braid, leaning closer and I hold my breath as he slowly breathes in. He moves away and this time, he's smiling that same smile at me.

"You smell just like I remember." I blush slightly at the intimate observation, but smile just the same. "Now off the bed, Katniss, we have a big, _big, _day ahead of us."

I laugh at the typically poor imitation of Effie and as he lies down I make my way to the mattress I have set up beside Finnick and when he reaches over to quickly squeeze my hand reassuringly, I allow myself a small moment of hope.

Peeta is finally coming home.


	5. Real

**A/N**_**:**__ Sorry for the delay, this one is quite short but was really hard. On the upside I have the next two prewritten! Yay!_

**Disclaimer: **_This chapter uses direct lines of text from Suzanne Collin's Mockingjay. This material is used for enjoyment only, I am making no profit from this and no copywright infringement is intended._

* * *

**Real**

As I watch Finnick's hands pressing down on Peeta's chest, I know he's failed. It must have been five minutes by now, surely a person's heart can't start after that long.

The cannon fires.

I scream, throwing Finnick to the side and grabbing Peeta, because I don't care how dead he is, no hovercraft is taking him from me. I beg him, plead with him to come back, even though I know if the cannon fired that can't happen. I can feel Finnick shaking me, telling me to wake up and I ignore him, hate him because he couldn't save Peeta for me.

"Katniss!"

I jerk, thrashing out and screaming at Finnick and everything is dark until with a click there is light and Peeta is hovered over me, concern etched on his face and it takes me longer than it should to realise I must have been dreaming.

I can hear the noise of surprise that escapes Peeta when I grab him, pulling him down to hold him to my chest. I start crying then, because just moments ago as I held him to me he was dead and despite the heartbeat pounding against my own it was too real, hurt too much.

"You were dead." I manage to choke out, hands gripping his shirt as I try to pull him even closer. "Finnick couldn't start your heart, the cannon fired, you were dead!"

I'm sobbing by now, overwhelmed by grief when I should feel relief. I can hear Peeta whispering that he is here, always here, as his fingers stroke my hair only it can't comfort me, it won't work.

"You can't die, promise me you won't die, Peeta, I need you too much."

"I'm not going anywhere, Katniss, we're safe now. No one is going to hurt us."

"I don't care about myself! It's you, I can't live without you!"

I shock myself with the admission and I immediately want to retract it, but when Peeta pulls back to look me in the eyes, I can't, because I know it's true.

When he kisses me, our first since the Capitol, when I begged him to stay with me, I know that it was Peeta, always Peeta, there never could have been anyone else. From the day his name came out of that reaping ball, it had to be him.

"Stay with me." I whisper, as his hands gently wipe the tears that line my face.

"Always." He murmurs and when he kisses me again I'm desperate for him to touch me, to prove to me that he is here and I grip his hair, pushing my hips against him and for the first time I feel the fire I did the night before the Quarter Quell.

He doesn't hesitate, pulling down my shorts and rubbing his hand against my underwear and already I can feel myself responding to him. I reach down to tug his boxers off and desire sparks in me as my hand brushes against him, already hard.

He follows my haste and hooks his fingers on the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down to my knees before running his hand against me and the shudder of pleasure that runs through me at such a simple action makes me wonder why we didn't do this the night he returned, why it took me a nightmare like that to remember the depth of my love for Peeta, that I love him in every way I can. Not a passive, platonic love, that he is my whole world, my everything.

I spread my legs and as I press his back to hold him closer, he takes the hint and pushes forward, slipping inside me and I whimper, clutching tighter to his back, my hands slipping on the sheen of sweat which coats his skin. When he moves, his hips thrust hard against mine and he is not gentle like last time, he is rough, as if he knows that I need him to be, to show me he is here and safe.

"Kat, darling, I can't-"

"It's okay, please…"

As my voice trails off he groans deeply and a quick spark of pleasure hits me when he holds himself pressed deep inside me before relaxing.

He wastes no time, gently slipping out and lying beside me, his hand slipping between my legs and rubbing against me and I grab his wrist to stop him.

"No, it's okay, another time, I just… I needed you, I needed to remember that, that it's us, always us, forever."

Silence stretches between us for a moment and when Peeta speaks it is not the certainty I have become accustomed to from him.

"You love me, real or not real?"

He sounds so hopeful, as if he can't believe it is true and I smile, the pain of my nightmare forgotten. Despite everything we have been through, the companionable relationship we have had since he returned to 12 was enough to make him believe the love I had for him had faded. When I hold him tight in my arms, it's as though he was made for me and the love I feel for Peeta is like nothing else I have ever known.

"Real."

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**A/N:** _Okay so this is the last real canon based moment I have. The next ones are things I just really want to write and have ideas for so the beauty is _**I WILL TAKE REQUESTS**_ :D Now I can't guarantee I will write them all within this story, if they don't fit the tone of it or it wouldn't mesh with something else I have planned, but unless it is totally out of my comfort zone, I will attempt it and post it as a separate one shot if I can't find a way to include it :) _

_So, please, review and let me know how you like things and let me know if there is something you want to see and I will try my best!_


	6. Recovering

**A/N:** _I understand why you hate me… I wasn't happy with that chapter either and it did take me a millennium to post it. Hopefully you guys like this better! Still happy to take requests!_

**Recovering**

Peeta's things gradually making their way to my place was something that took longer for me to notice than it should have. From the odd utensil he'd rush to his place for when he was baking at dinner that never went back, to more and more of his clothes which Greasy Sae gathered in my washing and hung up in my wardrobe. When I pointed this out to him, his blush showed me he had been well aware of the transition, but he played well at acting confused and told me he'd take them back. I can still remember the brilliant smile when I told him not to and slipped in that I still had plenty of room in my closet since I put all my Capitol dresses in the spare room.

I suppose that was really when we officially started living together, though he had been staying at my place every night for a long time before that. There was no change in routine, but I could tell he was pleased and as more as Peeta's possessions joined mine, it bought a warmth about the house which I thought would never come back without Prim.

I notice him looking at me curiously and realise that I must have paused in my actions of cutting carrots because his hands are mid-knead in the ball of dough in front of him. I smile reassuringly and step closer to lean up and kiss his cheek.

I realise my mistake instantly as he freezes at the contact.

I drop the knife and it lands on the bench with a clatter and I take a few long steps backward, keeping my eyes fixed on him as he clenches his fists in the dough. I don't blink, don't breathe, knowing to do so can be enough to break the calm he needs to bring to himself. It isn't until I see his hands relax in the dough that I allow myself a sigh of relief.

"It's okay." I murmur, stepping towards him, ready to stem the guilt he feels after his episodes and as I move forward his hand reaches for the plate beside him and he throws it at me.

It's not the first time he's thrown something at me when he's like this and with the reflexes it's taken me my whole life to develop I manage to avoid it and as it smashes on the opposite wall he advances towards me. The only movement I allow myself as he grips my shoulders is to raise my head to look him in the eyes and I manage not to recoil from the maniac expression that has taken over his features.

"Why are you here?" He hisses, grip tightening and I steel myself against the pressure he manages to apply.

"Because I love you."

My response is a risk, sometimes the simple words, which he waited so long to hear are enough to draw him from his darkness, drawing me into an embrace as he whispers apologies to me.

The back of his hand collides with my cheek just after he releases me from his grip and the force of it causes me to stumble and I allow myself to fall to the floor, knowing that a powerless position will help him to remember I'm not a threat.

He drops to straddle my hips, grabbing my wrists to pin them above my head. I know not to struggle, make his nightmares true. Shiny Katniss would struggle. Real Katniss would not.

He presses against me, likely to hold me in place but when I feel him hardening against me I feel myself relax, knowing I can bring him back now, before shifting my hips against his and allowing a small gasp of pleasure to escape me. This kind of feeling doesn't mesh with shiny Katniss. The tightening of his grip on my wrist makes me smile and as I look up to face him I watch as the tense lines on his face disappear and when he opens his eyes I know they belong to my Peeta.

His eyes sweep over me a moment before he scrambles off me and walks backward until he presses against the wall behind him. When I notice the fear in his eyes I worry the sight of me was enough to push him back under but when he apologises and runs for the door, I realise it is shame controlling his actions, not tracker jacker venom.

I tear out after him and when I step outside the cold of the air hits me and I bite my lip, resisting the urge to go back and dress in more than my thin night gown.

"Peeta!" I call out after him and when he continues to run through Victor's Village towards the woods I brace myself and run after him, my bare feet screaming in protest as they trudge through the snow.

"Peeta Mellark you get back here!" I scream and when I get close enough I throw myself at him and he falls face first into the snow with a grunt of pain. He struggles to get up but when I wrap my arms and legs tightly around him he sighs with a resignation which tells me I won our chase. I let go of him, because we both know he can't outrun me now.

"You are so rude, making me run out here so underdressed, don't even offer me snow for my face, or kiss it better!"

My playful tone doesn't do anything for the miserable look on his face and I sigh theatrically, grabbing his hand and making to drag him towards the house, but he stands firm.

"No Katniss, don't. You don't… You don't deserve this." His hand reaches to run along my swelling face and I manage to hold in the wince at the contact.

"It's nothing." I tell him, leaning down and taking a handful of snow to press against it. "Nothing a little snow won't fix.

"It's not the point, I... I hit you, I don't deserve you if I can't maintain a basic semblance of..."

"You weren't yourself! I know you'd never do something like that when lucid! Besides, it's my fault really. I should have been more careful, I know better than to touch you with a knife in my hand."

"It doesn't matter, I still did it. How can I stay with you knowing I could hurt you like this at any time putting you in danger? I'm so sorry."

He sounds more defeated than I've ever heard him and as he turns to walk away I do the only thing I can think of.

"Marry me." I yell at his retreating back, throwing my snow at him and he stops dead in his tracks turning back to face me with disbelief on his face. "I had been looking forward to you proposing in some painfully romantic way and overwhelming me with your way with words but you ruined that fussing like this so stop it because I'm here always and you don't have a choice in that so say yes and come kiss me and then carry me inside because my feet are freezing and we can resume the position we were in when you left."

He stares blankly at me for a moment and then his face splits into a grin and he runs toward me, sweeping me off my feet and I wrap my legs around him as his lips meet mine. I press against him and he moans, lips moving to kiss down my neck.

"Yes, yes a thousand times yes." He tells me between kisses and I shift my hips against his, hoping he'll get the hint and take us back home.

"Congratulations on turning your public domestic into your engagement and all but please go home before taking your clothes off, I'm too old for this." Haymitch yells from his front door and I laugh as Peeta offers a mock salute to Haymitch who shakes his head before closing the door.

"Let's go home, Peeta." I murmur, snuggling my head into his neck. "I wasn't lying, my feet are freezing, you owe me big time."

He laughs and as he walks along the path we made in the snow he kisses the top of my head and I barely hear him whisper.

"I owe you my life."

"I owe you my everything." I whisper back and as he squeezes me gently against my chest I feel like I'm finally starting to give something back to him.


End file.
